Love Bites
by danvseveryone
Summary: Ford is perfection itself when it comes to pleasing Fiddleford Hadron Mcgucket.
Practice made perfect and Ford didn't mean to brag but he felt he knew he was perfection itself when it came to pleasing Fiddleford McGucket. It was an art he had mastered each night for months now. The low expected moan that tingled against his teeth as he nibbled in just the right spot made pride swell deep inside him. Fiddleford's long crane-like neck was his stage and those soft, sensual moans of pleasure was the audience's applause as he unveiled his masterpiece to the world. He bit deeper, Fidds' once straight spine arching against his chest, his fingers trailing down Fiddleford's button up shirt, popping open one after the other with ease and experience. No longer did his fingers falter and stutter at this task. He was an expert. With no delay or nervous stammers begging for permission, he slid the shirt from his shoulders, giving him full access to every inch of his skin. He trailed kisses down, teeth gliding against his flesh as he descended further downward.

His tongue and teeth set up the proper suspense, his partner becoming on edge, panting his name as his tongue worked its magic with each kiss down that long slender neck of his, his teeth nipping playfully against the skin with the experience to know how deep to go to enrich his lover's pleasure. His fingers slid lower, feeling the tension growing underneath the now tight bellbottoms. Beneath the surface the climax of his show was about to arrive, his fingers snapping the buttons open and then teasingly began to inch below the surface.

He was a stage magician unveiling his final act, his captivated audience keening and groaning his satisfaction as his teeth sank into the nape of his neck. He'd done this a million times before, mastering it to know each cue, his fingers finally grasping his lover's member just right, not too firm, not too loose, his teeth sinking in just right and his fingers gliding with impeccable precision. Six fingers were perfect for this task it always seemed. Just as he was going in for the finale, his lover under his control, enthralled and entranced by the gratification only he could give him...

That illusion of perfection shattered like the fragile glass it really was; a soft gasp of pain, not pleasure, broke from his companion's lips at the final bite. He tasted a strong metallic piquancy on the tip of his tongue—he had drawn blood. Not enough to cause alarm, but a steady stream still flowed into his mouth as he sat stiffening behind his little lover. Once the initial shock began to subside, he pulled away. He hurt Fiddleford. He had promised himself he would never do such a thing and he had. He'd drawn blood from the sweet man who brought so much joy and happiness and comfort into his life. And even sicker than that, he liked the taste. Unlike the rare meats he had eaten throughout his childhood due to his mother's lack of culinary skill, Fiddleford's blood had a sweet aftertaste to it that must have come from his beautiful personality.  
He pulled away from the poor man he hurt and moved to the other side of the bed to give easy access for his little love to go clean up the mess he'd made on him while he sat away from him, wallowing in his fear and insecurities. All that practice to not hurt him and he did, the aftertaste tingling in his mouth, adding to his self-hatred. He'd liked hurting him. His sweet, gentle—

The thoughts beating him inside and out were cut off by Fiddleford resting his long slender fingers on his shoulder, glancing up to see a sympathetic smile on his face.  
"It's ok darlin'," he whispered, melting onto his back, arms wrapped snuggly around his neck and a tender kiss falling on his cheek. "I think I might have liked that."

A million arguments rose and died on the edge of his tongue before he stuttered out, "You—w-what?"

"I liked it," he said firmly, making Ford meet him in the eyes. "But I would like it better if you kissed it and made it better."

Ford was confused but he complied, not wanting to deny Fiddleford anything. He allowed him to pull them back into the spot they were previously at and then nervously looked at the wound that still had blood caked around it. He slid his tongue cautiously around it before Fiddleford's cute giggle made his confidence grow enough to place a kiss on the wound and suck on it for a second or two, savoring the sweet taste and the sweeter giggle Fidds emitted.

"Can you do that to the other side too?" Fiddleford practically whispered, turning red in embarrassment, "And then kiss it better?"

Ford wouldn't say he wasn't confused by his meek little lover's request. Fiddleford couldn't handle paper cuts without some cry of pain, never mind pleasure, but he trusted him enough to know he wanted this. And he realized as he began kissing down his neck once more, he trusted him enough not to hurt him. He smiled again, feeling his confidence and ego swell. If trust needed to be added to the act for it be true perfection, he wouldn't deny his love that desire.

Notes: I don't know if I should post this here. I debated about it and its really not that graphic, so I decided to see if you would like this as much as my tumblr friends did ^.^ If you feel its too graphic (which I don't think it is) I will pull it and you can just read it on my A03 account.


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